forever falling

interests (random selection): vampires (real ones), queer issues, epistemology, horror (watching/writing), writing, fire (worship), otherkin, sci-fi (reading), bdsm (feral pet), unusual movies, identity construction, body modification, sewing…
i am vegan, a sober addict, trans, a black swan, pan and poly, a redhead, a dragon, pagan (non-denominational animist), a freak, a lover, uncategorisable.
ask me things.
things i liked.

July 16, 2014 at 10:20am
116,891 notes
Reblogged from completed-nihilism

completed-nihilism:

Vantablack

British researchers have created the ‘new black’ of the science world - and it is being dubbed super black.

The material absorbs all but 0.035 per cent of light, a new world record, and is so dark the human eye struggles to discern its shape and dimension, giving the appearance of a black hole.

Named Vantablack, or super black, it also conducts heat seven and half times more effectively than copper, and is ten times stronger than steel.

It is created by Surrey NanoSystems using carbon nanotubes, which are 10,000 thinner than human hair and so miniscule that light cannot get in but can pass into the gaps in between.

Article

the new goth? :D

(via mermmaid)

9:55am
22,373 notes
Reblogged from asylum-art

asylum-art:

The Beauty Of Wat Rong Khun Temple

Wat Rong Khun temple is unique in that it was built entirely in white with reflection triggering of luminous glass mosaic mirrors embedded in the white plaster. The temple is an idea Mr Chalermchai Kositpipat, one of Thailand’s most famous artists, who wanted to build a temple all in white to signify the purity of the Buddha. It’s a Buddhist temple located in Northern Thailand just outside the city of Chiang Rai. The artist continues to puts his religious beliefs and his desire to enrich Buddhism in Thailand into the design of contemporary art. Construction of the White Temple is Khun Chalemchai master work, which he described as an offering to the Buddha and his beloved country

This temple designed by the architect in 1997 by the former a former painter, Chalermchai Kositpipat, stunning temples are such that with a combination of traditional Thai architecture and surrealism or fantasy

(via zombizombi)

July 10, 2014 at 10:39pm
1,058,465 notes
Reblogged from cosbyykidd
mermmaid:

uberconfusedfallenangel:

firstbeanstalk:

jaredsmonologue:

crystaltokyogorepolice:

teenagemutantnegroturtle:

ask-aphsiberia:

mr-pond-parties-in-the-impala:

cosbyykidd:

It’s worked for white people, I figured I might as well give it a shot.

GET THIS GUY TO DISNEY WORLD DAMN IT

I want you to go man!

if this was a white girl this would have had the notes 3 weeks ago

People are sending him racist messages telling him it’s not gonna happen and he doesn’t belong in Disney World over this post. So we’re gonna reblog it even more.

SIGNAL BOOST 

I WILL REBLOG THIS EVERY TIME IT SHOWS UP ON MY DASH.

soon, friend. soon

LOOK HOW CLOSE YOU ARE OMG

mermmaid:

uberconfusedfallenangel:

firstbeanstalk:

jaredsmonologue:

crystaltokyogorepolice:

teenagemutantnegroturtle:

ask-aphsiberia:

mr-pond-parties-in-the-impala:

cosbyykidd:

It’s worked for white people, I figured I might as well give it a shot.

GET THIS GUY TO DISNEY WORLD DAMN IT

I want you to go man!

if this was a white girl this would have had the notes 3 weeks ago

People are sending him racist messages telling him it’s not gonna happen and he doesn’t belong in Disney World over this post. So we’re gonna reblog it even more.

SIGNAL BOOST 

I WILL REBLOG THIS EVERY TIME IT SHOWS UP ON MY DASH.

soon, friend. soon

LOOK HOW CLOSE YOU ARE OMG

1:48pm
5 notes
Reblogged from love-and-radiation

Trans Women & The New Hypertext | Lambda Literary →

sexartandpolitics:

love-and-radiation:

Encyclopedia Fuckme and The Case of the Vanishing Entree was one of the first Twine games I ever played. It’s a relatively simple game: the player takes on the role of the titular character and, by making a series of choices throughout the narrative, attempts to avoid becoming her ravenous date’s dinner. It’s funny, smart, hot — everything you probably don’t think of when you think about about videogames.

I grew up on games and choose-your-own-adventure stories, but I’d never played something like this before. It had never occurred to me that ‘BDSM lesbian cannibal pulp’ was a viable genre for a videogame.

ATTN: sexartandpolitics.

Thank you!

I tried this out, because being eaten alive kind of is one of my fetishes. And it’s been a while since i’ve actually indulged that part of me. And you know what? The idea is still hot.

But, how to put it. A few years back i actually found myself a cannibal girlfriend. I’ve got a bunch of scars where she took bites out of me. I suspect (and a friend of mine who’s an actual expert on the subject agrees) that i would probably not be alive if i’d continued the relationship. So i was also a little apprehensive going into it.

But the game starts okay. I can’t quite identify with the protagonist (see the apprehension above) but you know, it’s a fantasy, so lets go with the flow. And it’s BDSM, we’re already in the relationship, so i assume there’s been some talk about boundaries and limits and all, and all our reactions (the choices we are given) are enthusiastic, so we’ve got consent, so we’re cool to indulge, yes?

Until we do get to a point where consent isn’t presupposed. At least in my playthrough i got a point where “hey, we haven’t talked about knives”! And suddenly it was no longer a safe little fantasy for me.

Suddenly it was hitting really deep. Like, scared for my live deep. And i really really wish i’d found a way out of the game.

I dunno where I’m really going with this post. I reckon there’s been some emotional growth in the last years. A lot more practical experience of what consent actually means. Probably a bit of trauma too. And i guess here in this game a relatively safe way to explore these changes.

12:37pm
1,058,465 notes
Reblogged from cosbyykidd
uberconfusedfallenangel:

firstbeanstalk:

jaredsmonologue:

crystaltokyogorepolice:

teenagemutantnegroturtle:

ask-aphsiberia:

mr-pond-parties-in-the-impala:

cosbyykidd:

It’s worked for white people, I figured I might as well give it a shot.

GET THIS GUY TO DISNEY WORLD DAMN IT

I want you to go man!

if this was a white girl this would have had the notes 3 weeks ago

People are sending him racist messages telling him it’s not gonna happen and he doesn’t belong in Disney World over this post. So we’re gonna reblog it even more.

SIGNAL BOOST 

I WILL REBLOG THIS EVERY TIME IT SHOWS UP ON MY DASH.

soon, friend. soon

uberconfusedfallenangel:

firstbeanstalk:

jaredsmonologue:

crystaltokyogorepolice:

teenagemutantnegroturtle:

ask-aphsiberia:

mr-pond-parties-in-the-impala:

cosbyykidd:

It’s worked for white people, I figured I might as well give it a shot.

GET THIS GUY TO DISNEY WORLD DAMN IT

I want you to go man!

if this was a white girl this would have had the notes 3 weeks ago

People are sending him racist messages telling him it’s not gonna happen and he doesn’t belong in Disney World over this post. So we’re gonna reblog it even more.

SIGNAL BOOST 

I WILL REBLOG THIS EVERY TIME IT SHOWS UP ON MY DASH.

soon, friend. soon

(via zombizombi)

July 9, 2014 at 2:05pm
7 notes
Reblogged from twistmalchik

twistmalchik:

I love this app.

got this for both myself and my partner, so good

1:25pm
531 notes
Reblogged from mymodernmet

mymodernmet:

Beijing-based illustrator Alice Lin's recent work Faramita features a giant swan with large, fluttering wings spread wide. The artist used only pencil on Canson drawing paper to create the elaborate illustration, which hangs almost 7 feet wide by 3.5 feet tall and took approximately one month to complete.

(via catiebat)

July 1, 2014 at 9:54pm
1,937 notes
Reblogged from hiddleston-daily

(Source: hiddleston-daily, via transascendant)

June 29, 2014 at 8:18pm
17,636 notes
Reblogged from ursulavernon

Toad Words

allofmyfoolishways:

ursulavernon:

            Frogs fall out of my mouth when I talk. Toads, too.

            It used to be a problem.

            There was an incident when I was young and cross and fed up with parental expectations. My sister, who is the Good One, has gold fall from her lips, and since I could not be her, I had to go a different way.

            So I got frogs. It happens.

            “You’ll grow into it,” the fairy godmother said. “Some curses have cloth-of-gold linings.” She considered this, and her finger drifted to her lower lip, the way it did when she was forgetting things. “Mind you, some curses just grind you down and leave you broken. Some blessings do that too, though. Hmm. What was I saying?”

            I spent a lot of time not talking. I got a slate and wrote things down. It was hard at first, but I hated to drop the frogs in the middle of the road. They got hit by cars, or dried out, miles away from their damp little homes.

            Toads were easier. Toads are tough. After awhile, I learned to feel when a word was a toad and not a frog. I could roll the word around on my tongue and get the flavor before I spoke it. Toad words were drier. Desiccated is a toad word. So is crisp and crisis and obligation. So are elegant and matchstick.

            Frog words were a bit more varied. Murky. Purple. Swinging. Jazz.

I practiced in the field behind the house, speaking words over and over, sending small creatures hopping into the evening.  I learned to speak some words as either toads or frogs. It’s all in the delivery.

            Love is a frog word, if spoken earnestly, and a toad word if spoken sarcastically. Frogs are not good at sarcasm.

            Toads are masters of it.

            I learned one day that the amphibians are going extinct all over the world, that some of them are vanishing. You go to ponds that should be full of frogs and find them silent. There are a hundred things responsible—fungus and pesticides and acid rain.

            When I heard this, I cried “What!?” so loudly that an adult African bullfrog fell from my lips and I had to catch it. It weighed as much as a small cat. I took it to the pet store and spun them a lie in writing about my cousin going off to college and leaving the frog behind.

            I brooded about frogs for weeks after that, and then eventually, I decided to do something about it.

            I cannot fix the things that kill them. It would take an army of fairy godmothers, and mine retired long ago. Now she goes on long cruises and spreads her wings out across the deck chairs.

            But I can make more.

            I had to get a field guide at first. It was a long process. Say a word and catch it, check the field marks. Most words turn to bronze frogs if I am not paying attention.

            Poison arrow frogs make my lips go numb. I can only do a few of those a day. I go through a lot of chapstick.  

            It is a holding action I am fighting, nothing more. I go to vernal pools and whisper sonnets that turn into wood frogs. I say the words squeak and squill and spring peepers skitter away into the trees. They begin singing almost the moment they emerge.

            I read long legal documents to a growing audience of Fowler’s toads, who blink their goggling eyes up at me. (I wish I could do salamanders. I would read Clive Barker novels aloud and seed the streams with efts and hellbenders. I would fly to Mexico and read love poems in another language to restore the axolotl. Alas, it’s frogs and toads and nothing more. We make do.)

            The woods behind my house are full of singing. The neighbors either learn to love it or move away.

            My sister—the one who speaks gold and diamonds—funds my travels. She speaks less than I do, but for me and my amphibian friends, she will vomit rubies and sapphires. I am grateful.

            I am practicing reading modernist revolutionary poetry aloud. My accent is atrocious. Still, a day will come when the Panamanian golden frog will tumble from my lips, and I will catch it and hold it, and whatever word I spoke, I’ll say again and again, until I stand at the center of a sea of yellow skins, and make from my curse at last a cloth of gold.

Terri Windling posted recently about the old fairy tale of frogs falling from a girl’s lips, and I started thinking about what I’d do if that happened to me, and…well…

This is amazing.

(via thismysfit)

7:56pm
1,858 notes
Reblogged from carolrossettidesign

carolrossettidesign:

Sorry, everybody! I had to delete these two cause I mispelled some words… But here they are again! :)

(via mermmaid)